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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26741575">Kujenga</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barnable/pseuds/Pippinpaddleopsicopolis'>Pippinpaddleopsicopolis (Barnable)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We All Fall Down [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hakoda (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Heavy Angst, Overdosing, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Sexuality Crisis, Sokka (Avatar) Has ADHD, Sokka (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Sokka (Avatar)-centric, Suicide Attempt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:55:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26741575</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barnable/pseuds/Pippinpaddleopsicopolis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sokka's had more than his fair share of struggles. A diagnosis of ADHD is supposed to help. Unfortunately, it's not that simple.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bato/Hakoda (Avatar), Hakoda &amp; Sokka (Avatar), Katara &amp; Sokka (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We All Fall Down [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950781</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>214</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Kujenga</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>An anon on tumblr suggested I write a ficlet about Sokka's backstory from my fic, "House of Cards". Things got very out of hand.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“…so, all that said, I think getting a diagnosis of attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder would be immensely helpful for not just his education, but his entire life moving forward.”</p><p>“Wait, sorry, what— what does that mean?” It was a stupid question. Hakoda knew exactly what it was, the situation just hadn’t quite registered in his mind. He glanced over to his son, who refused to turn his gaze up from the floor. “Sorry, I know what ADHD is, I’m talking about Sokka. How would this— what would it mean for Sokka? Like, what would happen if we got the diagnosis?”</p><p>“Well, that would be up to his psychiatrist,” the woman went on, “but he would almost definitely be prescribed some form of medication such as Adderall or Ritalin to help with his focus. From there, again, it’s up to his psychiatrist, but they might leave it at that, or they might recommend some counseling or therapy to help with the worst of it.”</p><p>Hakoda nodded, allowing himself a moment for everything to set in. Knowing Sokka’s history, the conversation was a long time coming, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. He looked to his son again, but Sokka failed to meet his gaze; only chewing on his thumbnail and staring at the ground beneath him. His leg bounced up and down, his chest rising and falling slightly heavier than was natural.</p><p>Though he wanted to say something to reassure his son, Hakoda realized that Sokka needed the space to think, and chose not to make him speak through the rest of the meeting. He spoke more with the school guidance counselor, taking her business card for a psychiatrist and thanking her for the help before he stood up. Sokka lagged behind him, not so much as gesturing to the woman as they left.</p><p>“It’s going to be okay, Sokka,” said Hakoda gently, reaching out for Sokka’s shoulder as he closed the door behind him. “We’ll go see this psychiatrist and once we know what’s going on, we can—”</p><p>“I don’t want to talk about it.” Sokka’s gaze flickered up to meet his eyes for the briefest second before it shifted back to the floor. “I have to go to class.”</p><p>He was gone down the hallway without regard for his dad's next thought.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In a twist that shocked absolutely no one, Sokka was diagnosed with ADHD by the end of the month.</p><p>At first, he was scared of the diagnosis. He’d never been on medications for more than a cold before and the idea of having to take something potentially for the rest of his life was terrifying. But then he spoke to the psychiatrist, took all the little tests they wanted him to take, and suddenly, that wasn’t the problem anymore. Suddenly, it wasn’t the ADHD that kept him on edge.</p><p>The only reason Sokka agreed to the therapy was because Hakoda promised him it would only be for a month. Just to talk through things while he got used to the medications, and to make sure everything was okay as he adjusted to his new normal. But it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t that simple and by the time the first session was over, his heart was racing, and he had to wait five minutes for his breathing to relax before he could step out to meet his dad.</p><p>“Hey, you okay, bud?” Hakoda’s tone wasn’t curious, it was severely concerned. He rose from his seat, already reaching one hand out to his son. Sokka swallowed hard, crumpling the papers in his hands. It was written on his face. Every single word of it was pouring out through his eyes. He nodded quickly. “Listen, I know it’s not easy, but I’m really proud of you for trying this. Now that we know it was just ADHD holding you back, you can start to…”</p><p>Suddenly, Sokka’s brain began to tone him out, and not because of the aforementioned disorder. It was the use of the word ‘just’ that threw him off, the implication that only one thing was wrong. He took a deep breath, his fingers gripping around the papers in his hand. He couldn’t give them to his dad. He couldn’t let him know what they really talked about. Hakoda’s brow furrowed in concern, and Sokka had to speak before he could get out a word.</p><p>“Can we go?” he asked. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about this yet.”</p><p>Thankfully, Hakoda nodded, and they turned to leave without another word. It wasn’t about the ADHD. It wasn’t even about the therapy. It was about what she said. What the woman mentioned near the end of their session and suggested he talk to his dad about. The idea that seemed so ridiculous, so impossible, so <em>terrifying</em>, that he couldn’t face the truth. And he <em>especially </em>couldn’t let his dad face it.</p><p>Sokka threw the pamphlets away before they walked out the door. He’d just come to terms with the fact that he was ADHD; he wasn’t ready to face the very real possibility that he could be depressed.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Hey, Sokka? You okay?”</p><p>It wasn’t often that Katara asked the question. Most days, Sokka was practically bouncing up and down with energy, but ever since he’d been diagnosed and prescribed the Adderall, all his excitement seemed to fly right out the door. She sat down on the couch beside his feet, nearly convinced that he was actually asleep until he suddenly shifted and glanced her way.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbled. “I’m just tired.”</p><p>The moment after he spoke, Sokka turned, adjusting his face back into the throw pillows. Not a single bone in Katara’s body thought he was telling the truth. She knew he had a big test that morning and she knew he’d never had the best grades. Even with the medications and the therapy, Sokka still struggled to get himself back on track. He insisted he was just adjusting, but it didn’t make sense.</p><p>“You want me to make you a snack or something?” Katara reached out to give Sokka’s shoulder a squeeze, letting out a soft sigh when he shook his head. Something was wrong, really wrong, and that wasn’t even the most concerning part. It was that it wasn’t the first time she’d found him like that since his diagnosis. “Hey, we’re all here for you, Sokka. Me, Dad, Bato—we got your back. It’s going to be okay. You know that, right?”</p><p>“I don’t want to talk about Bato.”</p><p>His voice fell flat and Katara only nodded at her mistake. Honestly, Katara didn’t know why Sokka was so weird about their dad and Bato. They’d always been close with him, and when he started officially dating their dad, it barely felt any different. But for some reason, Sokka had acted like Bato was an entirely different person ever since they came out. Katara tried to ask him about it before, but he continuously refused to explain.</p><p>“Okay.” Though she still wanted an answer, Katara nodded, giving him the space he needed to relax. She gave his shoulder another squeeze before she stood up. “I’m going to get dinner started. Come find me if you need anything, okay?”</p><p>Sokka didn’t answer, and she honestly wasn’t surprised.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Following Sokka’s diagnosis and ongoing treatment, Hakoda was sure that his son would pull his grades up. He was smart, determined, and one of the brightest minds he’d ever encountered. But it didn’t happen. If anything, Sokka’s grades were more inconsistent than ever, fluctuating around but never getting higher than a B. It concerned him more than a little, yet there was nothing he could do about it.</p><p>“Sokka, hey. Come here for a second.”</p><p>He waved his son over the moment he walked through the door. A strange look appeared on Sokka’s face as he glanced back and forth, hesitating before he walked over to sit on the couch beside his dad. Hakoda gently placed a hand on the back of Sokka’s head, moving his fingers affectionately and in a calming way before he went on. It didn’t help. Sokka wasn’t stupid; he knew what his dad was about to ask.</p><p>“Everything okay, bud?” Hakoda kept his voice gentle when he spoke, sliding his hand down to give Sokka’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He got no answer aside from his son’s gaze dropping into his lap. “You know you can talk to me, right? I know you’re a smart kid, Sokka. If there’s still something bothering you, we can figure it out. You just have to—”</p><p>“I’m fine.” There was no part of Sokka’s tone that sounded fine, and his fingers were already twitching in the way they did when he was uncomfortable. His leg bounced up and down as he lifted one hand to chew on his thumbnail. “I guess I’m just still getting used to everything. I’m sorry I’m not doing better.”</p><p>“No, no, no, that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s okay. I’m not worried about your grades; I’m worried about <em>you</em>. It’s just… the doctor said you’d be doing better with everything now if the medication and the therapy were doing what they’re supposed to, and I don’t know that they are.”</p><p>“They are, it’s just— I don’t know. I guess I’m not as smart as everyone thought I would be.”</p><p>Hakoda didn’t respond right away, instead sliding his arm further around his son and pulling him into his chest. It had always been hard to know what Sokka was feeling due to the way he buried his emotions so deep, but it didn’t take a genius to understand the tone in his voice and the drooping of his expression. He looked tired, more than anything else, and somehow, that fueled what Hakoda chose to say next.</p><p>“That’s not true,” he said gently. “You’re plenty smart, Sokka, you’ve just had a rough couple years. It’s going to be okay. You should just go lie down for a bit. You seem really tired.”</p><p>“Okay.” Sokka rose to his feet, pulling away from his dad’s grasp. He turned to walk away into his bedroom, but stopped in the living room doorway, biting down on his thumbnail again. “I’m really sorry about my grades. I’m going to— I’ll try to be better. I’m not going to disappoint you anymore.”</p><p>He walked away before Hakoda could say another word.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em>“Fuck</em>.”</p><p>The first time was an accident. The second time was a mistake. The third time was compulsion. The fourth time, he ran out of excuses. The fifth time, he threw up. The sixth time, he got used to it. The seventh time, he cried for an hour. The eighth time, it felt good. The ninth time, it felt <em>great</em>. The tenth time, he almost went too far. The eleventh time, he realized he’d accumulated far too many scars. The twelfth time, he weight of the situation finally caught up to him.</p><p>“Fuck, fuck, <em>fuck</em>.” He reached for the towel on his desk before his water bottle, pouring the liquid onto it. The wet fabric stung when it struck his skin, but he knew it would stop the bleeding so forced himself to accept the unpleasant feeling. “Sokka, you fucking <em>idiot</em>.”</p><p>He was in a daze when it happened and suddenly, he couldn’t remember how many times he’d cut himself anymore. All he could see was the blood soaking into the cloth around his arm, and all he could feel was the pain from the open wounds. Sokka took a deep breath, pressing his head forward onto the desk in front of him. Ironically, he hurt emotionally more than anything else; the tears building in his eyes as he tried not to think about what he’d done.</p><p>People were becoming suspicious. He knew that. Half his wardrobe consisted of tanks he no longer wore and considering how often they used to be the butt of Katara’s jokes—who wore tanks in <em>Alaska</em>?—it was obvious that he no longer wore them, even around the house. Instead, he wore the same sweatshirts over and over again until their prints wore off, the sleeves were torn, and the colors faded down to nothing.</p><p>“Sokka!” His heart pounded when he heard the knock on the door. He hadn’t even realized anyone else was home yet. “Dinner’s on the table and your Gran Gran’s going to be here any minute.”</p><p>“Okay.” Sokka’s voice was quieter than he intended it to be, but there was nothing he could do about it. “I’ll be out in a minute.”</p><p>“All right, just don’t take too long. You know how much your Gran Gran loves Katara’s soup.”</p><p>“Well she should, it’s her recipe.”</p><p>Hakoda only chuckled before walking away, while Sokka’s mouth did not so much as curl. He pushed himself up from the desk, knowing he needed to get out to the dining room, but the moment he pulled the cloth from his arm, he panicked. Sokka stumbled back into his bed, sliding down to the floor against it. He did it again. He told himself he wasn’t going to do it anymore and he did. He cracked.</p><p>As much as he hated it, regardless of how hard he tried to change, Sokka wasn’t good enough. He would <em>never </em>be good enough. It hurt more than he wanted to admit. For once, he let the tears roll down his cheeks as he buried his face in his knees. His family might have been waiting for him, but compared to the blood dripping down his arm, missing dinner didn’t seem like such a big deal.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>For the first few weeks after their dad announced he was dating Bato, Katara didn’t mind that Sokka was acting weird about it. In all honesty, she felt weird about it too. Bato was an amazing guy but it was the first time their dad had been with anyone after their mom died, and it took some getting used to. But after a few months, she was okay with it. She was happy for them.</p><p>Sokka was not.</p><p>Again, though it was increasingly annoying her, Katara said nothing after Sokka got his diagnosis. He was going through a hard time with the medications and the therapy and adjusting to all the changes in his life, so she let him be weird about their dad and Bato. But only for a few weeks. At that point, he wouldn’t stop avoiding them together and being strange around Bato and eventually, she could barely stand to be in the same room with them all.</p><p>“Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?” There was no part of Katara’s tone that left out how irritated she was. It was dinner, the same way they’d been doing for <em>years</em>, and Sokka was being weird again. She was sick of it. Sokka nodded, and she practically dragged him out to the backyard before saying another word. “Are you ever going to be okay with Dad and Bato?”</p><p>“What?” Sokka frowned, glancing back toward the door as if he didn’t understand what his sister was talking about. “I’m already okay with it, Katara. It’s not like it’s that big of a change.”</p><p>“No, it’s not, but you always get so weird and uncomfortable around Bato ever since they’ve gotten together. Look, I know it’s weird that Dad is with someone else now, but Bato has been such a huge part of our lives and if I’m able to be okay with it, then I think you should—”</p><p>“Katara, stop. It’s not about Mom, I just…”</p><p>His voice trailed off, and she didn’t have the patience to deal with it. “You just what? Just say it, Sokka. It’s been like six <em>months </em>and you’re still not over it. Why can’t you just be happy for them? Why—? Are you homophobic or something? Do you have a problem with it? Because I honestly can’t think of any other reason why you wouldn’t want something nice for them after everything that they’ve—”</p><p>“I’m not acting weird because of them, I’m acting weird because I’m confused, okay?!” Sokka dragged his hands through his loose strands of hair, his chest rising and falling heavily. He shook his head, reaching up to chew on his thumbnail and turning away from her gaze before she spoke. “It’s not about them, Katara, I swear. I’m not homophobic, I’m just— I’m <em>so fucking confused</em>.”</p><p>“Can you— can you talk to them about it?” Suddenly, Katara went from offensive to defensive, wanting more than anything to be rid of the upset tone in her brother’s voice. He shook his head again, and she glanced over to make sure the doors and windows were both closed. “Whatever it is, I’m sure you can talk through it. You know they just want us to be comfortable.”</p><p>“But I <em>can’t</em>. I just told you, it’s not about them, Katara, it’s— I don’t know how to explain this.”</p><p>“It’s okay.” She almost didn’t push him too, her concern growing with each fidget. “Just do your best. We’ll figure this out.”</p><p>“No, I don’t— I guess I just— I think I’m— I think I’m into guys.” Katara froze in her place, her eyes going wide as Sokka dragged his own hands over his face. She gave him a moment to collect his thoughts, not asking questions despite how badly she wanted to. “I think I’ve always kind of— I’ve always <em>looked </em>at guys. I mean, I’ve never had any real <em>feelings </em>for a guy but even when I was with Suki, I just— I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. I never really gave it much thought and then Dad and Bato got together and now I can’t look at them without— I’m sorry. I just— I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”</p><p>A silence washed over them, the gentle breeze replacing everything else. Katara wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do either, and so she stepped up to do the only thing she could. It took Sokka a few seconds to relax into her embrace but once he did, they both felt a little bit better. They didn’t know how to move forward but they had each other.</p><p>It was only when they didn’t when everything would finally break.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Hey, bud. Can I talk to you for a minute?”</p><p>Hakoda didn’t know what his kids were talking about, but the conversation couldn’t wait. In his hands, he held Sokka’s first report card since the diagnosis, and it wasn’t what he was expecting or hoping for. In fact, it was the exact opposite. Rather than finally flying up to the A’s that he deserved, Sokka’s grades tanked down to straight D’s aside from two C-minuses, which were hardly any better. Something was still wrong. Something was still <em>very </em>wrong and Hakoda needed to get to the bottom of it.</p><p>“Yeah, I guess.” Beyond anything else, Hakoda hoped that the dejected tone in his son’s voice was only due to the date on the calendar. Kya’s birthday. He almost changed his mind on having the conversation, but Sokka was already walking over and at that point, he figured he might as well get it over with. “What is it? Did you— oh.”</p><p>“Yep.” It was upon seeing the report card that Sokka’s expression fell, and he lifted a hand to chew on his thumbnail. Hakoda nearly reached out to stop him from indulging the self-destructive behavior but chose to give him the space. “I’m not mad at you, Sokka. I’m not even a little upset. I just want to know that you’re okay. Just tell me what’s going on so we can figure this out.”</p><p>“Nothing is going on.” Sokka shook his head quickly, but his gaze wouldn’t meet his dad’s and it was too clear a sign of lying. “I’m <em>fine</em>, I’m just— I don’t know. Maybe I’m not trying hard enough.”</p><p>“You’re trying plenty hard enough, Sokka. I know that’s not the problem. Please, tell me what—”</p><p>“Maybe he’s right, Dad.” Katara’s tone was hostile and sharp and suddenly, Hakoda realized that the conversation they’d been having before he came in wasn’t a good one. She rose from the couch, walking over to where her family stood in the doorway. “He won’t try at all to remember Mom, so why would it be surprising that he doesn’t care enough to try at school either?”</p><p>“I told you, I was trying my best,” snapped Sokka, whipping around to look at his sister. The expression in his eyes was deeply hurt, though the look on his face was nothing but bitter. “I know I don’t remember everything as well as you do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”</p><p>“Are you sure? Because it <em>really </em>seemed like you didn’t when you blew me off earlier.”</p><p>“I didn’t blow you off, I was talking to Suki.”</p><p>“Why?” It was getting out of hand. Too far out of hand. Hakoda opened his mouth to stop them, but Katara was going on before he got the chance. “She’s <em>my </em>friend too, Sokka, and you lied to her. She loved you and you knew that, and you took advantage of her.”</p><p>“What are you talking about?” Sokka gaped, his hands clenching into tight fists. “She’s my best friend, Katara. I know she loved me. I love her too, I—”</p><p>“You’re not even into girls!”</p><p>“Katara—”</p><p>“No, you <em>told </em>me. You told me even when you were with her, you were still looking at men. If you weren’t even into her then why were you ever with her in the first place? Why would you do that to someone? How could you— how could you just <em>forget </em>everything we did with Mom?”</p><p>Sokka bit down on his bottom lip stiffly, his gaze shifting to Hakoda for no more than a second. <em>That </em>was too far. It was one thing for Katara to be upset, it was another for her to out her brother before he was ready to talk to his dad about it. Hakoda shifted to stand between his children, shaking his head and looking back and forth between them with a look he tried never to have to use.</p><p>“You need to relax,” he said sternly, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Both of you. I know it’s a hard day and there’s a lot going on in your minds but it’s not okay to take it out on each other. Sokka, you okay, bud?”</p><p>The only reason he asked Sokka specifically was because his son looked like he was about to fall over. Sokka blinked before he shook his head, turning away toward his bedroom. He didn’t turn around when Hakoda called after him, only pushing his hands through the hairs that escaped his wolftail and retreating into his bedroom. Hakoda held out a hand when Katara tried to follow her brother.</p><p>“Let him go, he just needs a few minutes to calm down.”</p><p>Though he didn’t know it at the time, those twelve words would mark one of the greatest regrets of his life.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>There was no point during which Sokka actually considered what he would end up doing, everything just sort of snowballed until it was too late.</p><p>His heart was pounding by the time he closed the door behind him, dragging his hands through his hair and tearing out the tie to clutch at the loose strands as he slid down to the floor. He yanked his knees up to his chest, doing everything in his power to keep his breathing steady. At that point, he wasn’t even trying to feel better for himself, it was for his family; so they wouldn’t come looking for him when he’d already fucked up enough.</p><p>Sokka never told his sister that he was gay. All he said was that he looked at men and in all honesty, that was all he knew. He wasn’t lying when he said he was fucking confused and the fact that she jumped to conclusions from his rambles and then outed him when he wasn’t ready <em>hurt</em>. Did he deserve it? Probably. Did that make him feel any better about it? Absolutely fucking not.</p><p>Though he might not have said those words to Katara, Sokka did say something to his dad he couldn’t take back. He promised he was going to get his grades up. Hakoda was disappointed in him and upset with his scores and he <em>swore </em>he would get his grades back up, but he didn’t. They dropped. All they did was plummet until there was nothing he could do anymore, and he didn’t know what to do about it.</p><p>He inhaled sharply, stumbling to his feet before making his way toward his desk. Sokka didn’t know whether he would be able to do any homework in his current state, but he needed to try. He needed to do <em>something</em> because he was disappointing everyone, and it hurt him, and it hurt them, but he couldn’t fix it. He stared at his homework for a good ten minutes, his thoughts and his fingers racing too fast for him to think.</p><p>Grabbing the pills wasn’t even a conscious movement anymore but he hesitated before dumping out half the bottle into the palm of his hand.</p><p>The water was stiff, and the Adderall was disgusting and almost made him gag on the way down, but he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t fail them anymore. He nearly reached for his knife, but his arms were already bleeding, and he realized then that didn’t even know when he scratched himself. He didn’t even know what his own hands were doing and that scared him more than anything else.</p><p>Sokka allowed one single tear to roll down his cheek before his shaking hands dropped the remaining pills and he rose to his feet, turning around to flop into his pillows. He was a failure. At school, at socializing, at <em>everything</em>, and nothing was going to change that, so what was even the point? He closed his eyes and breathed in the soft scent of the fabric beneath his nose. Everything hurt but it was going to be over soon.</p><p>Everything would be over soon, and everyone could finally be okay.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Katara!”</p><p>It was the tone in her dad’s voice that made her run over despite everything that happened. She might have been pissed at her brother and she might’ve not been quite ready to apologize, but there was something about the urgency in his tone that terrified her. Katara rose to her feet, hurrying over to the doorway to her brother’s room. Hakoda had gone to see if he could get him to eat dinner, though she hadn’t heard a word from Sokka since their dad went to check on him.</p><p>“Come on, bud. Open your eyes.” His words were quieter as she approached, directed towards Sokka alone, but they made Katara freeze in the doorway; her gaze stuck on her dad and brother. “Please, Sokka, you got to wake up for me. Come on. Katara!”</p><p>She didn’t move an inch. Katara had no idea what she walked into, but it wasn’t good. Not at all. Sokka was lying face down on his bed, his head turned only where Hakoda seemed to have moved it, and one arm outstretched and dripping blood. Beside him, his dad clung to one of his hands, his other fingers dragging through Sokka’s hair as he tried to wake him up. He did not so much as stir.</p><p>“Dad? Is he—?”</p><p>Katara didn’t get the chance to say ‘okay’ before her dad turned to her, his dark eyes filled with fear. “I need you to call 9-1-1. <em>Now</em>.”</p><p>“What—?” She was only trying to ask so she would know what to tell the operator, but Hakoda didn’t let her get out that question either.</p><p>“He overdosed on his Adderall and it looks like he cut his arm but I don't think it's bad enough to— he’s not waking up. He’s breathing, but he’s not— tell them we need an ambulance. Now. Sokka, come on. You have to open your eyes for me, Sokka. Please. I know you can do it, bud. Just open your eyes. Come on, Sokka. Please.”</p><p>No amount of pleading could purge the drugs from his system. Sokka didn’t so much as stir the entire time Katara was on the phone, nor when she sat at his side while they waited for the ambulance. She held onto one of his hands, fighting back the tears which stung at her eyes when Hakoda finally sat back in defeat. Sokka wasn’t waking up. He wasn’t waking up and there was every chance he wouldn’t ever again.</p><p>The second the paramedics pounded on the door, Katara leapt to her feet. Hakoda never left his son’s side for a second, staying close by as the professionals did assessed the situation and lifted Sokka onto a gurney. It hurt. Seeing him like that—limp, sick, and one arm covered with blood as strangers worked to save his life—hurt more than anything else in the world but there wasn’t a thing Katara could do about it.</p><p>She only nodded when the paramedics asked if she wanted to ride in the ambulance with him. Somehow, she had no more words to speak.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Time seemed to stop after they wheeled Sokka into the hospital.</p><p>When he first found his son lying unconscious in his pillows, Hakoda thought he was asleep. But when he tried to wake him up and found that Sokka wouldn’t so much as stir, his heart started to race. He froze when he saw the blood beneath the blanket and felt himself go into shock when caught a glimpse of the recently refilled pill bottle spilled across the floor. Hakoda tried everything to wake him up, but it didn’t work, so he called for an ambulance and everything after went by in a daze.</p><p>He sat in the waiting room for too long, only speaking to reassure Katara when she asked him a single question. He walked too far when they finally called him over the PA to talk about Sokka because he was so out of it, he’d forgotten where to go. He spoke only nine words while meeting with the doctor—Is he okay? Can I see him? Thank you—and not one more while they walked over to the room where Sokka was staying. He didn’t hesitate to walk through the door but he froze once it was open, hurt by the sight of his son unconscious, hooked up to what must’ve been a thousand wires, and wearing a hospital gown instead of one of his quirky t-shirts.</p><p>Hakoda didn’t move from his seat for far too long. At some point, Katara forced him to get up and go for a short walk, but he quickly returned to Sokka’s side, refusing to leave until he woke up. It was hours before he finally stirred, and even then, several minutes longer before he began to open his eyes. Immediately, Hakoda sent his daughter to get the doctor, while he turned to reassure Sokka as he blinked and became more aware of his surroundings.</p><p>“Hey, bud.” He gave Sokka’s shoulder a little squeeze, not the least bit surprised when Sokka failed to answer aside from turning to meet his gaze. “How you feeling?”</p><p>A long moment passed before he spoke, his voice quiet and painfully hoarse. “My head hurts.”</p><p>The fact that he mentioned his head before anything else was almost concerning. He’d just had his stomach invaded, his arm was scratched to shreds, and it was his <em>head </em>he chose to comment on. Hakoda chose not to say anything about it, however. It was clear that Sokka had been lying to them about a lot of things and if he was covering up something again, they were going to find out. They had to. He couldn’t let his son hurt himself again.</p><p>“Yeah, I kind of figured it would. You’ve had a really rough day.” It hurt too much to think about how much longer things must’ve been rough for, especially after seeing how many healed scars swirled around his son’s arms. He forced a reassuring smile, which Sokka acknowledged with only a drowsy stare. “It’s going to be okay, Sokka. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.”</p><p>Sokka barely nodded in response.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Hey, Sokka. How was it?”</p><p>“It was—” He cut himself off abruptly, biting down on his thumbnail as he stepped into the car. Sokka had just come out of his first therapy session since his overdose, and immediately, his mouth moved to lie. To tell his dad that it was great, and he felt better but he didn’t. It took too long for him to force himself to tell the truth. “It was hard, and weird, and I feel really stupid about everything I said because I know it all sounds so fucking mundane but to me, it’s just—”</p><p>Hakoda’s arms were around him before he even cut himself off. The armrest between the seats made it a little awkward, but Sokka didn’t complain. He lifted his arms to cling to his dad, for once allowing the tears to fall the moment they stung at his eyes. It hurt. Everything hurt. But he needed to be open and honest or it was never going to stop. He sniffed, unable to get out another word and waiting for his dad to make the next move.</p><p>“I’m really proud of you, Sokka,” he said quietly. Never once did he release nor loosen his grip, only shifting to pull his son in closer. “I know how scared you were to try this again, but you made it and you did it and I am so, so proud that you did. You just keep talking to us, okay? Whenever you feel sad or depressed or like you want to do something bad, you just come find me or Katara and we’ll help you. You know we will.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Sokka nuzzled into his shoulder, letting out a deep, shaking breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”</p><p>“It’s okay. We’re not mad at you. You know that, right? Katara and I, we’re just… we are so glad that you’re okay. All we want to do is help you and as long as you keep talking to us, we’re going to make sure everything is all right. I know it’s hard, but we don’t ever want to see you hurting like that again.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>His voice was shaking and sad but for once, he didn’t care. For once, all Sokka could think about wasn’t that he wasn’t good enough or smart enough or happy enough, it was that everyone loved him. His dad and his sister and his friends and even Bato loved him so much and it didn’t matter if he was enough for them in his own eyes, because he would always be enough in theirs.</p><p>When they finally pulled apart, Hakoda reached out to give Sokka’s arm one last reassuring squeeze. He said nothing but gave Sokka a look as if to ask whether he was okay. Sokka brushed a hand over his eyes, sniffing as he wiped away the last of his fallen tears and allowed himself to nod. It was hard. Life was hard and it hurt, and he didn’t know if he would ever really be okay, but he wanted to try.</p><p>He really, really wanted to try.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“You’re going <em>where</em>?!”</p><p>Katara’s jaw dropped, her heart almost pounding out of her chest. Her tone wasn’t aggressive in the least, only cheerful as the smile nearly widened past her face. In front of her, Sokka grinned back, still waving his acceptance letter in the air. He’d shown it to her the second he walked through the door, the excited look never once dropping from his eyes.</p><p>“I never thought they would let me in,” Sokka babbled, already looking down to reread the letter again. “I mean, holy <em>shit</em>. My grades were awful for almost ten years and they just let it slide. Can you believe that? It’s like they don’t even care that I almost had to repeat the fourth grade.”</p><p>“They probably don’t.” Katara could only laugh at his enthusiasm, his cheerfulness infectious and causing her to feel better too. “I’m really proud of you, Sokka.”</p><p>She was. Not just because he’d gotten into the school of his dreams—even if it <em>was </em>in a weird city down in the lower forty-eight that he’d admitted he wasn’t too keen to live in—but because he’d come so far. Honestly, Katara wasn’t the least bit surprised he made it into university. He’d probably make it into all of the ones he’d applied to. The problem was never with his intelligence, it was with his mental health. Once that was out of the way (following almost two years of intensive therapy, mind you), he was suddenly on track to become their school’s next valedictorian.</p><p>“Thank you.” The smile on Sokka’s face was one of the biggest she’d ever seen and all she could do was be happy for him. Happy that he felt better. Happy that he was finally comfortable with himself. Happy that her big brother was finally okay and the amazing person he was meant to be, even if she’d always looked up to him regardless. “You know, Katara, I don’t— I don’t think I could have done this without you.”</p><p>“I know,” she told him, chuckling when he rolled his eyes. “You know we’re always going to be here for you, right?”</p><p>It was an honest question. Sokka might have been okay right there, as he stood in front of her beaming about his acceptance letter, but it wasn’t always like that. He cried coming home from therapy for the first six months. He relapsed four times. He beat himself up over the littlest things and she had to talk him down from more than a few panic attacks. He spent a year questioning himself before finally realizing it was all right not to use a label. Sokka was okay but he might not always be okay and the idea that he would move and stop Katara from checking on him was terrifying. But he understood what she meant.</p><p>“Yeah.” Sokka nodded, the letter crinkling between his fingers. “I know.”</p>
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